


Pirates, Sorcerers and Infinity Stones

by paperferrets



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Ironstrange is the main pairing, M/M, Magic, Monsters, Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirate AU, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Thanos is an evil purple pirate, crack but taken seriously, privateers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-17 03:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperferrets/pseuds/paperferrets
Summary: Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts, is stripped of quite literally every mystical thing he owns and dropped into the sea.Tl;dr Everything’s the same except the Avengers are pirates and Stephen gets injured a lot.





	1. Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!  
> This is my first time writing a fic and I don’t have a beta reader so I’m sorry for any mistakes! >< Originally I was planning a magic lamp AU but that kinda went pear-shaped and somehow this was born instead.
> 
> Enjoy this amalgamation of every pirate trope ever!

It didn’t take long for Stephen to realise he was drowning.

This wasn’t the first time he had drowned, in fact, it had been happening a lot lately. Having reign over the currents of time meant he often found himself in situations that were repeated over and over—but one never really gets used to the feeling of water filling their lungs. 

And this might really be the final time, thought Stephen, as he felt his shoulder blade crack against a rock. 

The waves were particularly cruel today; swallowing, regurgitating and spitting him out just long enough to cling onto some shrapnels of hope before taking him under again. The fourth time he went under, he felt his leg catch between the teeth of a piece of broken rotting wood. He swung like a doll, coughing up water, before he finally managed to get a hold of his foot. As he grappled to free himself, he felt the temperature of the water begin to take its toll. 

It happened quickly; the ocean was never known for it’s patient nature. The coldness froze his joints and split through his muscles, leaving him unable kick his legs or move his arms to cast a spell.

And maybe magic was what got him into this mess in the first place. Too much spiritual magic, too much black magic and more importantly, too many presses of the reset button, as if time was just a game to be played with. Maybe, most probably, this was magic finally catching up with him and slapping him in the face. 

Depressingly, he had no excuse; he’d been warned many times.

Stephen let the waves toss and pull him. His body was now completely numb and motionless, save for his hands, which still managed to shake below the water. If he weren’t in such a dire situation, he would have laughed. All he could do now was grapple with consciousness and helplessly watch as the light from the surface moved further away. 

⚓⚓

The next time Stephen opened his eyes, (shocked that there even was a next time,) he was vaguely aware of being tied to a pole. 

“Don’t you think the ropes are a little excessive?” 

“Nope.” 

“But triple-knotted?” 

“You can never be too careful on these seas, Pete.” 

“No offense, _Captain,_ but if this guy turns out to be one of Thanos’ magic minions—”

“Natasha—”

“—and we all end up as shark bait, it’ll be on your head.” 

“Duly noted.” 

Ignoring the throbbing pain at both sides of his head, Stephen did his best to bring his vision into focus. The good news was: he wasn’t dead. He was on a boat. The bad news was: he had likely broken at least five bones in his body and was surrounded by people who didn’t seem to want him there. 

“Excuse me,” he croaked; his throat felt like it had been stretched and rubbed with sandpaper, “Mind telling me where I am?” 

All three people turned to stare down at him, obviously not expecting their guest to wake up so soon. One of them, Stephen noticed, was just a boy, couldn’t be older than 17. He wore a red bandana around his neck and an innocent smile that made him jarring, when compared to the other two. On his left stood a woman with a glare that could pierce metal and on his right, stood the man who spoke up first. “On a boat,” he said, stepping closer, “Probably the best one you’ll find. Not to boast.” He paused for a second. “Who are you?” 

Stephen squinted up at the man. He had a handsome face, admittedly , and facial hair that mirrored his own. It was a face he almost recognised; a face he might have skimmed over in a newspaper or two . “A better question: who are you people?” Stephen asked.

“I asked first.” 

Stephen’s brow furrowed. “You kidnapped me and tied me to—what is this—a mast? So I’m reserving the right to ask first.” 

The man scoffed incredulously. “We _saved_ you from drowning!”

“People that save people don’t usually tie them up afterwards.”

“I’m Peter!” said Peter. “If anyone’s interested.” The boy stepped forward and raised a hand in greeting , much to the dismay of his two accomplices. “We’re the Avengers,” he added enthusiastically. 

“Peter, I told you, we’re not the Avengers anymore.” 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot…” 

“Oh god, you’re pirates,” Stephen groaned. Pirates were the thing he wanted least right now. At first he wasn’t sure he could imagine anything worse than drowning, but if he were made to sit through a sea shanty, that would probably take the cake. “I have nothing. Nothing worth anything to you.” He nodded down at his almost non-existent clothes. “Throw me back in the sea.” 

“No, no, we’re not pirates,” said the man. “We’re more like—” he gestured for words “—privateers?” 

“Have you seen Pirates of the Caribbean?” Peter interjected. “We’re, like, the Pirate Police. We’re the Antipirates.” 

“Kid, we are _not_ the Antipirates.” 

“I think it sounds pretty good…” 

The man rolled his eyes. “Alright,” he breathed, turning his attention back to Stephen. On closer inspection, Stephen noted that he had kind eyes. Tired, even.

“You’re currently on the Iron Voyager. My ship. And I’m Tony Stark. The Captain.” He held a hand out to Stephen but retracted it awkwardly when he realised that Stephen couldn’t shake it because he was tied up. “That’s Peter, of course, and this is Natasha Romanov,” he continued, then held his arms out dramatically, “My crew.” 

“A crew composed of three people,” said Stephen, twisting his arms in the ropes. 

“Five, actually. The rest are elsewhere.” 

“Impressive.” 

Tony decided this person was both exceedingly annoying yet also incredibly engaging. There was something about him that made his curiosity bubble. “Alright, I told you our names now tell us yours.” 

“Stephen Strange. _Doctor_ Stephen Strange,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. ‘Now, is there a reason you have me tied to a pole half-naked, or do you just like the way it looks?”  
Tony almost spluttered, But before he could think of shoot something back, he was interrupted.

“Because you’re a sea witch,” said Natasha, piping up from where she was standing. If Stephen weren’t stuck to the mast he would have jumped. The woman had an incredible talent for sneaking up on people. Not to mention the cutlass in her hand that he really didn’t want to be on the other end of. “And we don’t want any trouble on our ship. Especially not now.”

“You think I’m Ursula,” Stephen deadpanned. He sighed. Her allegation wasn’t entirely groundless, though. Stephen had magic running through his veins; there was so much of it, that he was practically a feeding ground for all sorts of mystical creatures and bacteria. “Well I’m not. Sorry,” he said plainly. 

“Don’t lie to us, Doc,” Tony circled him, “I know a sea witch when I see one.”  
He knew he was being a bit unfair, interrogating an injured man he had just fished from the sea like this, but Tony’s past encounters with magic were not particularly pleasant ones. 

“I think you’re going a bit overboard with the accusations, Captain—” 

“Careful, Strange, or you might end up being the one—” Tony cast a thumb over his shoulder and made a noise “—thrown overboard.” 

“Mr Star—I mean, Captain!” Peter cried, “You’re not actually gonna toss him out?!” 

“He’ll be fine. I’m sure he can, uh, do some Merlin shit and turn into a seahorse or something.” 

“If I could do that, I wouldn’t be drowning in the first place,” said Stephen, in a vaguely irritated tone. He had surprised himself with the amount of snarky responses he’d managed to put out earlier, but was beginning to feel the full weight of almost drowning. He was tired, bleeding, hungry and looked like he had been dragged across the seabed. All he wanted to do was curl up in his cloak (which he didn’t have) and sleep for the next century. Tony must’ve picked up on this, because there were faint lines of concern and regret drawn at his forehead. 

“Look, I’m not a sea witch, I’m very human,” promised Stephen. “I’m not trying to harm anyone. I was passing through, got picked up by a bunch of pirates, robbed, and then thrown out.” He was practically pleading now, hoping his tone was sincere enough to satisfy them. “And I just happen to be well-versed in the Mystic Arts. I’m a sorcerer. You wouldn’t want to see some of the things that live deep down there. I’m the person that keeps them at bay. Without me, they’d swallow up your ship in an instant.” 

“I doubt that,” said Tony, but his expression had softened. “Have you ever seen a ship like this? It’s defences are pretty much impenetrable. It’s—” 

“The strongest ship on the sea, we know,” Natasha said, with a light laugh. 

Stephen couldn’t deny it. He had never encountered a ship like the Iron Voyager. Everything about it--everything he had seen so far--was extraordinary. The hull of the ship was like a quilt; patches of different metal cobbled together to create a sturdy yet sleek effect. The bowsprit reached far out across the sea, and looked to double as some sort of cannon. Most noticeably, from where he slumped, was that the rigging was everywhere. Yards of it hanging and criss-crossing from the sails like a mass of broken spider web. Mounted across the rim of the ship were an array complicated-looking gizmos, some of which looked mildly dangerous. Finally there was the fact that the upper deck looked like a Miami penthouse. The end result was something that could only be described as the love child of a cruise ship, a battleship and a science lab. 

“It certainly is something,” said Stephen, taking in the view. Tony cast him a proud smirk. The Voyager hadn’t even been around that long. He’d thrown it together from scraps after his last ship was, well, taken. But that only made it more brilliant and proved that Stark’s handiwork was truly unrivalled. “So you’re not making me walk the plank?” He coughed, grimacing as the rope around his waist scratched against bruised skin. 

“Nah. We don’t even have a plank. We’ll drop you off at the nearest harbour.” 

Stephen seemed to mull this over for a few seconds. “I’d rather come with you,” he said. “I have to pick up what got stolen from me.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Nope, sorry wizard,” he said, “This is a pirate ship not a bus service.” 

“We’re on a dangerous mission. No room for stowaways,” Natasha added. 

Peter frowned. “I thought this was a privateer ship…”

Stephen bit his lip, desperate. Without his cloak, he was restricted to the ground. Without his sling ring, there would be no convenient escapes. Without the Eye of Agamotto he was endangering the whole world. And without a ship, there would be no chance of getting any of them back. “I have medical experience and assuming you have a sick bay I could—“

“Already got a doctor, Doctor” Tony waved his hand dismissively. It wasn’t exactly the truth. Their resident doctor, Bruce Banner, had been missing for longer than a year. 

“It’ll only be temporary,” he pleaded. “Till I find my things. Then, I swear, I’ll literally disappear out of thin air.” 

Tony gave him a sidelong glance. In truth, he had already decided. He might not completely trust Strange just yet but, no doubt, he’d be a valuable asset to their crew. And when you’d been sailing as long as Tony had, days began to bleed into months, the sea always looked the same, and it became a struggle to cling onto reality. So it was always refreshing to have some new faces around. Especially when they were pretty to look at. 

“Wait, Captain, think about about it—” Peter pulled him aside clumsily. “Mr Strange probably has some tricks up his sleeves and we’d probably be the only ship with a _wizard_ on their crew, which is, frankly, the coolest thing ever. Pirate wizards! Plus, he might be able to help us take down Th—“ 

Tony shot him a look. Peter winced, leant in closer and lowered his voice.

 _“Plus, he might be able to help us take down Thanos!”_

Tony sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He looked at Stephen, a sorcerer apparently, completely exposed and helpless. Their job was to rescue people, not keep them.

“Alright,” he said, donning his I’m-the-Captain-of-this-ship voice. “Nat, cut those ropes and bring in the others, would you?” Natasha nodded, already setting to work on the ropes around Stephen’s wrists. “ And Peter, bring some fresh clothes from the quarters.”

“Aye Aye, Captain, sir!” 

“Don’t do that.” 

Tony turned to Stephen and gave him a grin that was surprisingly genuine. “Tomorrow morning we’re arriving in Cornwall to pick up some goods. Then we’re off.” 

“So I’m part of the crew now?”

“Sure. Congrats, Strange” Tony said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re in. Welcome to the crew.” 

Stephen gingerly returned the smile. 

God, he was going to regret this.


	2. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! This is an extremely random update...I haven't updated this in a whole year (sorry for that haha) A lot of things happened! I started Uni and then dropped out and got a job...now that my life's back on track I want to start writing again. And shockingly, when I open my drafts I found this chapter almost completely written!  
> I really appreciate the comments and kudos on this, its what spurred me to continue in the first place so thank you! <33

“As some of you already know, we have a new crewmate joining us today,” Tony announced as he strode onto the deck.

Rhodey snapped to attention and Pepper perked up from where she was sat, cleaning a blade. “Oh, that’s great news, Captain,” she chirped. “We’ve been short on people since—” She corrected herself, “—for a while now.”

Tony glanced her way and shook his head. “Temporary crewmate. He’s just hitching a ride.” 

“Hitching a ride?” said Rhodey. The uncertainty was clear in his voice. Other ships seemed keen on hoarding as many lost souls as they could to use as fodder, but Captain Stark was known for being more cautious and selective. 

“It’s not permanent,” assured Tony. “Just until he finds his magic amulet or something. Some pirates stole it from him, apparently.”

“Is that the commotion I heard earlier?” said Pepper. 

“We fished him out the sea,” said Natasha, walking in. 

“Just as long as he’s not another eight year-old kid,” murmured Happy, from over a newspaper.

“Hey!” Peter called out. “I’m sixteen actually,.” He was dangling by his legs from the crow’s nest, unruly chestnut hair splayed out in all directions. “Also Mr Strange is a cool guy,” he added. “He does real magic.” 

Rhodey turned to Tony and raised both eyebrows. “You brought a sea witch on board?! Tony, I thought you hated magic?” 

“He’s not. Plus, we live on the sea, Rhodey. I think I can brush that aside.”

Tony Stark could never say he outright hated magic; that would contradict his own profession. The main reason that so many pirates and sailors and expeditioners made their homes on the waves, was the abundance of magic that lay beneath it. 

It seemed as though everyone had been fed the same fairy tales from a young age; stories about seals that changed form, seahorses the size of dogs, and beautiful creatures that lured sailors into darker corners of the ocean. Allegedly, it was true, and all due to the current of raw magic that bubbled up from beneath oceanic plates. The strange relics and scattered bursts of energy it left in it’s wake made the sea the perfect place for skirmishes, treasure hunting, and even scheming to take over the world. (Tony had the misfortune of encountering some of those genocidal maniacs himself.) 

The owner of the tavern they frequented, Old Man Lee, had even raved about terrible, ghoulish things sleeping within the sea bed. Things that people had spiralled into madness and scratched their own eyes out after witnessing. He said that the deeper in the ocean one went, the wilder and darker and more treacherous the surge of magic became. 

Tony stayed well away from the depths and stuck to what he was best at: Roundhouse kicking whatever they faced in the head with science. 

“Actually, where is Mister Strange right now?” asked Peter, still swinging upside down like a monkey. “You showed him to his room, like, almost an hour ago.” 

As if on cue, Stephen hobbled onto the deck, looking only slightly less disheveled than when he first arrived. He was dressed in the standard sailor’s garb; a cream coloured shirt that drooped off his shoulders and high-waisted trousers. Plus a pair of ghastly yellow gloves that Tony didn’t remember supplying. Everyone turned to look at him. 

“Strange!” Tony sauntered towards him. “You took your time, huh? I thought you’d jumped off ship or something.” 

“I was getting dressed,” Stephen dead-panned. 

“Take you one whole hour to button up a shirt?”

Stephen twitched and opened his mouth to retort but then the others were swarming him. Pepper, Rhodey and Happy all wore welcoming smiles. 

“Everyone,” said Tony, swiftly switching into Captain mode, “This is Stephen Strange—”

“Doctor,” Stephen annoyingly reminded.

“Doctor Stephen Strange. He’ll be joining us until we locate his stolen goods.” 

A flurry of “Nice to meet you”s and “Welcome Aboard!”s bounced around the air. Rhodey, probably perturbed by the earlier talk of sea witches, looked at Stephen’s hand like it was radioactive, but shook it anyway. Peter shook Stephen’s hand with over-the-top enthusiasm despite having already met earlier. 

Alright, Strange,” said Tony, once the buzz of introductions had died down. “I’ll run through positions with you.” 

He took Stephen by the shoulder who flinched slightly at the contact.

“Happy over there—is our brawn. If someone worms their way onto our ship, he’s usually the first to notice. He also prepares the food most days.” Tony pointed and Happy gave a small nod in recognition. 

“Pepper here, is our Quartermaster,” said Tony. Pepper smiled and waved. It was strange, thought Stephen. She looked completely at odds with the sea. “If anything bad happens and I end up out cold, you answer to her.” 

“In short, it means I do all the dull work he can’t be bothered to do himself,” said Pepper, earning a laugh from the rest of the crew. 

“Rhodey mans the blasters around the ship. Him and only him,” Tony looked Stephen in the eye, “That means don’t go pressing anything you’re not supposed to.”

“Wasn’t planning on doing so, Captain,” said Stephen. Although the word ‘Captain’ tumbled off his lips with an air of sarcasm. Tony was slightly surprised at the nerve he had, for someone who was drowning only a few hours ago. 

“Romanov here is our professional ass-kicker,” he continued. Somehow, Stephen had already worked that out. With the force that Natasha had used to cut him out of those ropes, he figured she had probably used her hands to break more that a few bones. 

“And I’m a cabin boy!” Peter bounded towards them. “Doesn’t sound too interesting, but I’m basically an all rounder. I stay on the lookout too.” 

Stephen spared a small smile for the kid. The energy that radiated from him was contagious, and for a second, Stephen forgot about his injuries and the absurdity of the situation he was in. 

“And where’s your doctor?”

“Oh.” Tony made a face. “I lied.” 

“I thought that might be the case.” 

“I was trying to get you to leave. Our doctor’s been missing for a while.” Tony patted Stephen on the back. “That means his position goes to you,” he said. “Plus, you can help out with the cleaning, repairs, negotiations and anything that requires magic. Don’t think you can slack just because you’re a temporary guest.” 

Stephen nodded curtly. “I’ll do my best,” he said. Tony shot him a challenging smile, and from the edge of his vision, he saw Pepper shoot him a sympathetic one. Stephen had never sailed before and it probably showed. He’d been on a few luxury cruise ships back when he worked at the hospital, but never anything that lasted over a few days or involved battling ruffians on stormy waters. There was also the fact, that after continuously drowning in a spatial-time loop, the thought of ships and oceans wasn’t exactly enticing. 

But it was okay, because as annoyingly impressive as the Iron Voyager was, he had no intention of staying for over a week. It would be easy. He’d tolerate Stark, find his things and then skedaddle back to guarding the Sanctum and fighting multi-dimensional entities, which was far more attuned to him. 

⚓⚓

The rest of the day went like a blur. They ate dinner; Happy cooked up a platter of salted fish which turned out to be a hundred times better than any of the questionable meals Wong served up at the Sanctum. Then, Peter had taken Stephen on a tour of the ship, which seemed like a neverending labyrinth in the way that nooks and cabins just kept appearing. Some sections were beaten down and some were oddly modern and stylish. Some sections were cluttered with things far beyond Stephen’s understanding (and that said something); metal panels sprinkled with levers and buttons that lit up like christmas lights, robotic arms, blasters, some sort of hydraulic machinery that hissed and clicked. One would think they were travelling through space, not water. 

“It looks nice and all, but aren’t we a little conspicuous like this?” Stephen had commented. 

“It’s the Stark aesthetic,” said Peter. 

“Tony likes to show off,” Natasha added. 

Tony had rolled his eyes and tried to explain the various features of the ship. The chameleon device (which worked by forcing light through a filter) made it so that the Voyager could hide in plain sight, the adjustments he’d made to the rudder to make it move faster, and various other things that Stephen thought were entirely unnecessary but still, ultimately, impressive. 

Then he’d been introduced to FRIDAY, the informative and surprisingly personable A.I. that was wired up throughout the ship’s hull. She doubled as their navigator and tactical advisor, and Stephen, who was quite used to sentient objects, found her easy to get along with. 

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Tony had offered to patch Stephen’s injuries up. “No offence, Doc, You look like pure shit,” he’d said. Stephen had politely declined because he was far too stubborn and dignified to accept help—especially from him. Watching the Captain so obviously concerned and trying to hide it was amusing, though.

And then, when the sky cast orange lights on the waves, all seven of them sat together on the upper deck, watching the first glimpses of sundown.

“So, you’re a sorcerer, Mr Strange...” Peter always seemed to be the one to start off conversations, “What kind of magic can you do?” 

“The mystic arts kind,” replied Stephen, over a cup of something tasting mostly like seawater and vaguely like alcohol. 

“Can you walk on water? Like Jesus?”

“No—”

“Do you shape-shift?” 

“Well—”

“How about...can you apparate?”’

“Somewhat—”

“Okay, but can you—”

“Alright, Pete. Enough with the questions,” said Tony, nudging him in the side. “The guy looks exhausted.” 

But then a thought weaselled it’s way into Tony’s mind. For all Strange’s talk about sorcerers and voodoo—he had never actually seen him do magic. Fair enough, they had him a bit tied up earlier on, but since then, there had been no pulling rabbits from hats or making packs of cards disappear and even Tony, who didn’t care much for magic, found that quite disappointing. 

“Actually, hold up,” he said. Stephen looked at him. “Do some witchy stuff for us. A demonstration. Just so we know you aren’t messing us about.” 

Stephen stared blankly into his cup. “I can’t,” he said, after a long moment.

Peter’s eyes widened to twice their original size and Natasha pulled a calculative frown that said I-told-you-so.

Tony blinked. “What do you mean you can’t? Were you bluffing?” he demanded.

Stephen’s eyes narrowed, “Let me finish,” he said in a calm yet authoritative voice that made Tony want to throw him offboard. “I’m assuming you know about the three sources of magic us sorcerers work to exploit,” he explained. Tony didn’t know, and it likely showed in the expression on his face. Stephen continued anyway. “One of those sources, is a personal stash you keep deep within yourself. Using that personal stash is very damaging and exerting, and it just so happens, that I had to use a lot of mine when I was trying not to drown. In short: I’m burnt out. Ask me tomorrow and maybe I’ll do a card trick for you.” 

Tony wondered why he let such an irritating person on board while the rest of the crew traded glances and Peter tried not to laugh.

“That makes no sense at all,” said Tony.

“That makes sense,” said Rhodey.

“It makes perfect sense,” Pepper chimed in. “I’ve heard tales of water spirits sinking as the magic drains from their bodies.”

“You were pretty badly bashed up when we rescued you,” Natasha admitted. 

Though Stephen had made an effort to cover up all traces of his earlier blight, Tony could still see purpled skin peeking out from under his sleeves. They’d found Stephen draped over a pile of rotting flotsam, covered in in sludge and seaweed. After they’d reeled him in, the man was so impossibly still that Tony had almost mistaken him for dead. 

“Yeah, you were all crumpled up and your skin was super blue,” said Peter, gesturing wildly. “The Captain had to do CPR on you. Like mouth to mouth.” 

Tony coughed out his drink. 

“That’s exactly what I didn’t do,” he said, giving Peter a sidelong glare.

But for the first time since coming on board, Stephen let out a brittle laugh. “Well,” he muttered. “I can’t deny that I’m in your debt...”

Peter opened his mouth to say something foolishly noble like ‘There’s no need for that!’ or ‘We’re just happy to rescue people’—which was all good and true, except if Tony was going to have to put up with a self-entitled magician moping around on his ship for the next few days, he wanted to see what he could get out of it. So, he jammed a hand over Peter’s mouth and said “Yup, and we charge ten percent weekly interest.”

The corners of Stephen’s lips rose. “How about this…” he said. “After I’ve found my things and returned home, I’ll do you one favour in return.”

“Any favour?”

“As long as it’s within reason,” Stephen said, already regretting it. 

Tony paused for a second, an unreadable expression settled in his eyes. “Alright, Strange. What do your stolen items look like? So we know what we’re looking for.”

Stephen vaguely described what he was looking for, leaving out their functions of course—wouldn’t want Tony Stark of all people getting his hands on an object capable of manipulating time. 

“That’s a lot of work just for a bunch of costume jewelry and a fancy cape,” Tony mused after the explanation was done, “Can’t you just buy a new one?”

Stephen bristled, but relented. “These objects have a lot of personal value to me, Stark,” he said. “We’re finding them. That’s the deal.” 

“I know, I know, Only joking,” Tony patted him on the back and yawned, “Lights out everyone.” The group dispersed with a chorus of ‘good night’s. “Pepper, you’re on lookout duty, and Peter...If I hear another sea shanty at 1 am you’re in trouble,” he said. Strange you should get some rest, you really do look awful.” 

“Thanks.”

“We’re stopping off at the Cove tomorrow, gotta pick up some stuff and then we’ll find your magic junk at the earliest convenience,” Tony waved idly and then headed down to the Captain’s quarters. 

Stephen hoped to the Vishanti that ‘earliest convenience’ came soon. 

⚓⚓

The next morning, they pulled into Kynance Cove, a tiny patch of coast tucked neatly away in the southern edge of Cornwall. Most boats would pass by and be none the wiser; from far away it looked like an unassuming pile of rocks for crabs to make their home in. It was only until you got within a couple of miles within the place that you could make out the dock and a row of wooden slats leading up to huts nestled in the cliff face. 

‘A bit desolate isn’t it?” Stephen piped up, as the seven of them padded along the sand. “What could we possibly be here to collect? Seashells?” Tony looked at him over his shoulder with a knowing smirk. Stephen only found out why when they ducked down to pass through a gap in the rocks and a sudden burst of color smacked him in the face.

Pirates. Lots of them. Everywhere. Classic eyepatched and peg legged pirates, pirates  
that didn’t look like pirates at all, gothic pirates, steampunk pirates, undead pirates, pirates that looked like they’d just made a round trip to Mars, huge gruff looking pirates, ant-sized pirates, old pirates, young pirates, pirates with ridiculous feathered hats and pirates with no hats at all...just, really, every pirate, privateer, buccaneer and swashbuckling soul you could think of crammed into one unsuitably small seaside village.

“This is…” Stephen trailed off, seemingly at loss for words, which was rare for someone who dealt with demons on a regular basis. This place looked like it should be a cheap package holiday destination, not a bustling hideout for wandering seafarers. 

“It’s neat, huh?” said Peter, as they passed a row of cardboard stalls selling everything from freshly picked mangoes to robotic arms. As they weaved throughout the crowd, some people stopped to point and whisper.

‘Hey, look it’s the Avengers!’ 

“Shush!” 

‘Only a few of them, look there’s Captain Stark and Black Widow...”

‘There’s Spidey!’ 

“Whos that other guy?’ 

Stephen glanced around owlishly, getting caught up in the waves of the crowd and at one point, almost tripping over the abnormally large foot of a particularly mean-looking pirate. “Peter, hold Strange’s hand so he doesn’t get lost,” said Tony, landing himself a cold stare from the sorcerer. “I’m being nice. A beginner like you wouldn’t last five minutes here alone.” 

They passed a few more stalls and mats stocking various repair parts, and turning to Stephen, Tony said, “It’s busy now, but bases like these never last long. And this base is just a secretive place for terrified people to hide. Once more people find out about it...everyone’ll pack their bags and move on to the next patch of sand.” 

“If privateers like yourself frequent here, then surely this is the wrong place for people to hide from the law?” said Stephen. 

From a few paces behind, Rhodey shook his head. “They’re not hiding from the law. They’re hiding from a particular bunch of guys who seem hell-bent on making the ocean a bad place for everyone.”

Stephen was about to question further, when Tony stopped abruptly and announced, “We’re here.”

They building they were stood at the foot of was inexplicably named ‘Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children’...or at least, it used to be; the metal sign hanging above the doorway had been heavily defaced with phallic imagery and the place now seemed to be serving as some sort of tavern from Hell. 

Peter bounced on his toes. “This place is super amazing and friendly. You’ll love it,” he said, nudging Stephen.

The place was, as it turned out, not super amazing and friendly. Stephen would argue that it was the exact opposite. 

Tony flung open the doors and they walked in to the sound of people screaming obscenities and smashing bottles over table edges. Stephen had to duck down as a plate soared straight over his head and smashed behind him. The inside of the tavern was even more chaotic than anything going on outside, if that was even possible. rough-edged people loomed over low tables using their massive hands to tear open cornish pasties or shovel down gruel. A couple of people were stood on the tables violently brawling whilst others circled around them and cheered. Other people were using table legs as weapons. And somehow, in the midst of this, there were some who were managing to down their meals quietly or snore in their seats whilst havoc unfolded around them. 

Stephen trailed behind Tony, grimacing as his soles peeled away from the sticky floorboards (that he tried not to think to hard about) and swerved to avoid trails of broken glass. He looked over his shoulder and realised that most of their crew had already dispersed; Pepper and Rhodey were talking animatedly with a man behind the counter, Peter (who was far too young for a place like this, but seemed unfazed) was happily throwing darts with a nearby mercenary, and Happy had already sat down with a jug of ale.

Tony was silently scanning the room and eventually, set his sights on a man sitting in one of the far corners. The man, Stephen thought, had an assured presence. Tony Stark was a discount pirate in comparison; this guy...was the real deal. He had an eyepatch and everything. 

“I’ll be a few minutes,” Tony said, turning to face Stephen. “Cop a seat. Go ask around for your magical amulet or something. Just don’t get start fights and get yourself killed.” 

Stephen cocked an eyebrow. “You really don’t know much about me Stark,” 

“You’re provocative,” Tony replied, already walking away. “And pulling rabbits out of hats won’t stop you from getting beaten up.” 

⚓⚓

Tony sat opposite Nick Fury, who already looked like he was ready to leave. 

“Here,” said Fury, lifting up a large briefcase and slamming it down on the table in front of them. “Everything’s in there.” 

“Grappling hook? The new repulsors not the old ones?” 

“Yes. Everything,” repeated Fury. Then he leaned back and added, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Stark.”

“I always know what I’m doing,” said Tony, to which Fury pulled the most skeptical expression he had ever seen on a human being. Tony shrivelled in his seat. 

“Look out the window,” Fury inclined his head towards the open shutters. “What do you see?”

“Well, for starters, there’s a lot of sand...seagulls...some nice-shaped rocks—” 

“Complete chaos,” Fury boomed. “Disorder. Hundreds of people cowering outside because they say ‘the water is no longer safe’”

Tony sighed. He didn’t need to be lectured on dangers he had warned of long ago. 

“Thanos and his fanatics need to be taken care of before they pose a threat to land as well as the sea.” 

“I sincerely doubt they’ll get that far, but alright, Fury,” Tony said dismissively. “Thanks for carrying my stuff here. I’ll get going, shall I?” 

Fury peered at him through his good eye. Then he shifted as if he were about to get up, but to Tony’s dismay, he carried on talking. “I’ve been made aware of a bunch of smugglers circling the coast of South Africa. Port Elizabeth. Make a quick stop and see if you can deal with them,” he said, then continued when Tony blatantly frowned. “The water is polluted with criminals and vermin and it’s our job to clean up the mess.”

‘Our job,’ more like ‘my job’, thought Tony. In his opinion, S.H.I.E.L.D (The Seagoing Hazard Intervention, Enforcement and Littoral Division) always seemed less concerned with, y’know, actually being helpful, and more concerned with tampering with magical shit they found at the bottom of the ocean.

“I don’t like how that sounds…” Tony remarked quietly, “And why can’t you send one of your own guys? Or Rogers?” 

Roger’s virtuous ass would jump at any opportunity to gain brownie points and Fury’s agents were more than capable. But Tony already knew the answer; S.H.I.E.L.D didn’t like to waste their agents on menial tasks when they could get people like Tony—specifically Tony—to do it for them. Fury decided to ignore him completely and fixate on one small detail: “Ah, speaking of Captain Rogers, I notice you two are still engaged in your little baby squabble.” 

Tony’s forehead creased. This was a conversation he didn’t want to be having. “I’m just not talking to him,” he said, simply. 

“Well.” Fury shuffled his coat on, ready to leave. “Sort it out.”

“There’s really no need...the ocean’s a big enough place for us to stay out of each other’s way.”

“There will be no ocean left, if you two don’t work together to overcome this fastly approaching threat.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and began heading in the direction of the door. “Get your head out of your ass, engage, and move on like the rest of us. See you later, Stark.”  
And just like that, he was gone. 

Tony sank down in the seat with his forehead pressed against the table. It was incredible how much energy that two-minute conversation had drained from him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stephen entertaining Peter with a triad of butterflies perched on his fingers. He was so distracted by the display that he didn’t notice another man sliding into the chair opposite him. 

“Captain Stark?”

Tony jolted upwards. “Huh? Oh yeah, that’s me,” he said, blinking in confusion. 

The person sat in front of him was dressed in olive green and wore a hood pulled down low enough to cover his eyes and cast a sinister shadow down his chin. 

“I have a job you might be interested in,” said the man, in a low voice. “I’m investigating criminal stowaways and would greatly appreciate your help.” 

Tony sighed inwardly. This was the only downside of having a brilliant reputation--He was very used to getting requests from people who assumed that he and his crew were ready to blindly slash the throats of anyone they were paid to. 

“Sorry buddy, requests are closed on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays,” Tony said, not bothering to lift his head up to address the man properly. “And weekends. In other words: Forever.”

The man’s resolve didn’t budge. “You believe in the importance of upholding rules in order to maintain a state of equilibrium,” he said. “Your insistence in the pirate code shows that.” 

Something about the way that sentence was phrased as a statement rather than a question made Tony bristle. He squinted warily at the man. “...Equilibri...what? Look, I’m sorry. As privateers, we don’t go around randomly sinking ships for money. We deal with criminals. And sometimes treasure. But mostly extremely dangerous, often super-powered criminals.” 

“Oh, these people are criminals,” the man affirmed, shaking his head sadly. He retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slid it towards Tony, who pried it open and studied the words. A list of names inked in scratchy handwriting. Some of them had blurry photographs attached. “Poor misguided souls that turned into terrible, deceitful criminals. These are stowaways capable of shaking the seas through their misuse of magic,” he continued in a grave voice, “And I’m willing to pay handsomely for any that you manage to capture.” 

“Huh…” Tony spiralled into thought. “Take the hood off and I’ll consider it. The whole Sith Lord thing you’ve got going on there is kinda giving me the creeps.” 

Surprisingly, the man complied and promptly lifted his hood to reveal a face that was shockingly...normal. Strangely...convincing. Friendly. Definitely not a pirate.

“I’m here on Mondays during sundown,” he said, “For every criminal you bring to me, alive, I’ll give you this much,” he said, shoving his hand into his satchel and bringing out a fistful of glittering coins. He set them on the table and went to fish for more, piling them up until a mountain of gold lay between them. “Deal?” 

“Uh…” Tony drawled, gazing at the coins with a mixture of incredulity and awe. He felt his soul ascend to another plane. “Yeah…” The colour gold seeped into his mind and made his vision double. “And what do I call you, Mr…” 

No response. He must have been lost in his own world for a long time because when he looked up, the man had vanished, leaving Tony with the list of alleged criminals, the heap of money and a blank expression. Alright then. Tony scooped the coins into his pockets before any ruffians could lay eyes on them and slotted the piece of paper into the briefcase Fury had handed him earlier. He stood up, still a bit dazed and waved at the rest of his crew. 

“Okay, we got what we need. Let’s go.” 

No sooner than they had left the building, Stephen pulled him aside with shaky hands. “Stay away from that man,” he said bluntly. 

“Woah there!” Tony eyes widened for a second before he regained his composure. “Jealous already? I only just met y--” 

“I’m being serious, Stark.”

Stephen gripped his shoulders hard enough for it to hurt. It took a few seconds for Tony to realise that Stephen was, indeed, completely serious. “Okay I…” he trailed off. The intensity in his gaze was enough to burn. “...Do you know him?” 

Stephen took a furtive glance around before answering. “That was Karl Mordo,” he said, in a low voice. “I don’t know what he’s doing here, but it can’t be anything good.” 

“He said he was an investigator looking for dangerous stowaways,” muttered Tony, only now realising how far-fetched that sounded. In the moment, it had seemed so plausible; something about the way the man had said it. 

Stephen almost rolled his eyes. “Of course he’d say that.” He looked antsier than when they’d first fished him from the sea. 

“You know him well, then?”

He made an odd, thoughtful expression. “Well, enough to know that he can’t be trusted.” 

“Ah, but how do I know I can properly trust you?” 

Stephen ignored him and began pacing. “It doesn’t make sense…” he murmured. “What did he want?” 

“For some supposed criminals to be captured and brought to him which sounds absurd now that I think about it but…” Tony faltered. ”He did offer treasure.”

“Uh huh.” Stephen squinted. “For magic fraudsters, anything is treasure. Accept a pile of diamonds from him and a few days later you’ll realise you’ve just been given a bunch of enchanted pebbles. Utterly useless.” 

“Clever…” Tony mused. “This guy is your friend?”

“Used to be. We had a bit of a falling out and then he sort of went...evil. You know how it is.”

Tony considered him carefully. The urgency in Strange’s voice felt shockingly real and the more he thought about the mysterious man in the hood, the less genuine he seemed. It was if his thoughts had been invaded and stuffed with cotton wool, clouding his vision. “You don’t have to trust me,” Stephen continued, earnestly. “Just be careful around that guy.” 

“I do trust you,” Tony blurted. Stephen raised an eyebrow. 

“Mister Stark sir! I mean, Captain!” Peter barrelled round the corner, effectively ending the Moment. “Okay, guess what. There’s a stall over there selling hats, but like, really tiny ones for parrots.”

“Uh huh.” Tony began walking in the direction of the harbour.

“And they’re really cheap and well made.”

“Kid. I’m not buying you a tiny hat for a parrot. We don’t even have a parrot.” 

“Okay but think of the benefits.” 

“Ask me again and the answer will still be no.” 

They continued bantering like that until they reached the harbour, Stephen trailed behind, occasionally shielding his face and trying not to stick out like a sore thumb for Mordo to snatch. He looked up just in time to see Tony’s face turn sour. Really sour. Like, he-had-just-eaten-a-lemon-and-was-now-suffering-from-IBS sour. It was almost comical to watch. Stephen followed his line of sight to see the ship docked just behind theirs. 

In his mind, Stephen had often compared the Iron Voyager to a dolphin: Sleek, streamlined and graceful. Well, if their ship was a dolphin, the ship behind them would be a blue whale. The sheer scale of it was enough to block out two thirds of the sun. It towered over the Voyager as if it were pointing and mocking it. Even disregarding the size, it was a thing of beauty. Grand, ornate, patterned sails, red wood...a proper pirate ship. This is what Tony was so obviously threatened by? Well. He couldn’t blame him. The Voyager might be fast and modern. But this ship had that aura of natural elegance and charm. 

“Alright guys, we’re leaving. Come on!” Tony clapped his hands together and smiled. 

“Uhh...but aren’t we going to upgrade our weapons first?” Peter asked, gesturing at the briefcase.

“Nope! No time, we do that later. Chop chop,” he replied bluntly, ushering them towards the hull.

“Tony,” said Natasha in a firm voice. 

“We have a wizard pendant to find, bad guys to catch and we’ve already wasted way too much time here. And Strange?”

“Yeah?” Stephen answered as they clambered onto the ship.

“How good are you with a sword?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh also! Im still looking for beta readers for this. Its been a while since I've written anything, so I'd really appreciate it ^^


End file.
